


Tinted Windows

by afacadeoffeelings



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Slash, Spike and Valve, Sticky Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, interfacing, overloads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3817705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afacadeoffeelings/pseuds/afacadeoffeelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cliffjumper helps Wheeljack work off some unnecessary stress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tinted Windows

Frowning, Wheeljack eyed the circuitry of the ship’s control panel. He was on his back, having removed one of the metal panelings, and trying to locate a short in the mess of cables and wires. So far, all he’d managed to find was a slight crick in his neck and a lot of dust. Blue optics scanning the dark underbelly of the controls, Wheeljack shifted his weight slightly and reached for another wad of wires. He tried to delicately pick the wires apart, but only succeeded in seemingly making the knots worse.

“Did they wire this slaggin’ thing with their optics offline?” Wheeljack grumbled, trying to figure out a way to undo the mess of wires. There was a chance the short was in that mess, and given the luck Wheeljack had had so far, it was smack in the middle of the mess.

Muttering under his breath, Wheeljack started trying to pull apart the wad of wires, making a mental note to have a ‘talk’ with whoever had the bright idea to just leave this mess as it was.

He heard the door open and somebody walk in, and Wheeljack made a low scoff. Great, the last thing he needed was somebody trying to tell him how to fix this.

“Having fun?”

It was Cliffjumper.

Scooting down slightly so he could look at the ‘bot, Wheeljack raised an eyebrow and gave Cliff a thoroughly unamused look.

“I’ll have more fun when I find the ‘bot that did this to the wiring and knock some sense into them.”

“Aw, is somebody a little tense?” Cliff teased, smirking.

Rolling his optics, Wheeljack turned his attention back to wiring, content to leave Cliffjumper’s question unanswered. Yeah, he was tense. Tense, frustrated, and more than a little irritated with the lack of care given to circuitry around here. He could hear Cliffjumper moving around, but didn’t really pay it much mind. Cliff was smart enough to keep from messing with anything...not like things could be made much worse at this rate.

“I could help you get rid of some of that stress,” Cliff offered, tilting his head to the side.

Looking momentarily confused, Wheeljack stopped what he was doing and looked back at Cliffjumper. The ‘bot had crouched down by Wheeljack’s side, and had a bit of a coy grin playing on his features.

“Oh yeah?” Wheeljack asked, pushing himself from out from under the control panel. “And what’re you planning for this...stress relief?”

His grin widening, Cliffjumper’s hand traced down from Wheeljack’s abdomen to his waist. Wheeljack made a low grunt of surprise, watching Cliff’s hand carefully, raising an eyebrow as the red ‘bot’s fingers drifted a little farther past his waist before pausing.

“Pretty sure you’d like what I’ve got in mind...Jackie,” Cliffjumper replied lowly.

“Would I?” came the chuckled response. Relaxing, Wheeljack eyed Cliffjumper just slowly enough that the other noticed. Cliffjumper was definitely no pushover, and there were times that Wheeljack wondered why the ‘bot hadn’t applied to be a full-time Wrecker. “And just what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t you Wreckers like surprises?” Cliffjumper teased, inching a bit closer to Wheeljack.

“Sometimes. Though sometimes the surprise isn’t exactly a pleasant one and ends up leaving a few marks,” Wheeljack commented with a smirk.

“Pretty sure I can promise this will be a pleasant surprise,” Cliffjumper said as he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “And I can hide any marks I might leave if it’ll calm that ego of yours.”

“My ego is fine as it is,” Wheeljack retorted, though his smirk had turned into a knowing grin. He propped himself up on his elbows, leaving little distance between his face and Cliff’s. “And if you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t really give two scraps about a couple of marks.”

“Just trying to keep from testing my luck.”

“I’d say you’re about to get lucky.”

Affirming his statement, Cliffjumper grinned and roughly kissed Wheeljack, the Wrecker making a muted noise of surprise that promptly turned into a pleased chuckle. It’d been a while since he’d done a good fragging, but Cliffjumper’s actions were promising...to say the least. Cliffjumper kissed him again, a bit more insistently, his hand tracing up Wheeljack’s inner thigh.

“Well, well...are we sure it’s just my stress levels that need a bit of taking care of?” Wheeljack inquired, a grin tugging at his scarred lips.

“Hey, it’s mutually beneficial,” Cliffjumper retorted, grinning.

“Heh...no complaints on that.” Glancing around, Wheeljack quirked an eyebrow. “We doing this on the floor? Or you want to get a slightly better ride out of this?”

“I’m always up for a better ride.”

“Well, then…,” Wheeljack interrupted himself to sit up and grasp the sides of Cliffjumper’s helm, kissing him firmly, his glossa slipping past Cliffjumper’s lips and teasing at Cliff’s own glossa. Moaning, Cliffjumper leaned into the kiss, grasping at Wheeljack’s thighs. Feeling his circuits warming up quite quickly at the prospect of a good fragging, Wheeljack somewhat reluctantly pulled back, “...move your aft and let’s get this going.”

Grinning, Cliffjumper moved back enough to let Wheeljack stand up, managing a quick nip at Wheeljack’s inner thigh before standing up. Wheeljack started towards the cockpit of the ship, which was across the hall from where they were currently at. Darting forward, Cliffjumper managed to grab Wheeljack by the waist and push the Wrecker up against the hallway wall. The look of surprise on Wheeljack’s face was priceless, and Cliffjumper couldn’t help but laugh a bit.

“You’re not trying to turn into one of those stuffy, boring higher-ups, are you?” Cliffjumper snickered. “You didn’t think I was going to let this be so cut and dry, did you?”

His expression quickly changing into a pleased grin, Wheeljack leaned against the wall, letting Cliffjumper pin him. He roughly kissed the other ‘bot, his glossa dragging across Cliffjumper’s lips. Catching Wheeljack’s glossa with his lips, Cliffjumper flicked the tip of his own glossa against Wheeljack’s before deepening the kiss.

“You know…,” Cliffjumper hummed, his kisses working across Wheeljack’s scarred lips and then along his helm, “I’ve always wondered…” Cliffjumper stood up a bit straighter, his kisses drawing closer to the finial on Wheeljack’s helm.

“...oh,” Wheeljack muttered, his voice harboring the slightest hint of a tremble when he realized what Cliffjumper was doing.

“...how sensitive…” Cliffjumper kissed right below the finial

“Cliff..,” Wheeljack groaned, one hand clutching tightly at Cliffjumper’s waist while the other futilely tried to grip the wall.

“...these are.”

Cliffjumper finished his statement by kissing at the base of the finial, which earned a hoarse grunt from Wheeljack, who reflexively pulled Cliffjumper firmly against him. Chuckling, Cliffjumper let his glossa slide along the edge of the finial. Wheeljack made another, far more audible, groan, lifting his hips as much as he could, a short gasp escaping his lips.

“Slag it, Cliff!” he moaned.

“Seems like they are,” Cliffjumper chuckled. He teasingly nipped at the finial, listened to Wheeljack’s sharp gasp, before moving back just enough so that his gaze managed to catch Wheeljack’s.

The Wrecker looked almost uncharacteristically flushed, but he managed a crooked grin at Cliffjumper.

“Clever little Cliffjumper,” he breathed.

“Just getting warmed up,” Cliffjumper said promisingly. He quickly licked two of his fingers before letting their slick tips trace across Wheeljack’s spike cap. “You mind?”

“Not at all,” Wheeljack replied, catching Cliffjumper’s lips in a firm kiss as he opened his spike cap.

Moaning into Cliffjumper’s mouth as he felt the ‘bot’s fingers run along the shaft of his spike, Wheeljack braced himself against the wall. For now, he was quite content to let Cliffjumper take charge, because the tables would turn once they got into the cockpit…

“It’d be pretty rude if I forgot about the other side, now wouldn’t it?”

Wheeljack had been so focused on Cliffjumper’s hand teasing his spike he didn’t completely register the question.

“Eh?”

“Tilt your head, would you?” Cliffjumper said, leaning forward.

“Oh…,” Wheeljack sighed roughly, realizing what Cliffjumper was planning. He leaned his head to the other side, a nervous chuckle escaping his vocal processor. “Cliff...slag it.”

“I think the better term would be ‘frag’ it, but I think I’ve got you right where I want you for now, so I’ll let it slide.”

Once again leaning forward, Cliffjumper kissed along Wheeljack’s helm, pausing right before his lips reached the other finial.

“I should probably go on, shouldn’t I?” he asked with a mischievous grin, his hand still rhythmically stroking Wheeljack’s spike.

“You’d slagging better!” Wheeljack laughed, though his laugh was shaking with anticipation.

Chuckling, Cliffjumper began to softly kiss at the base of the finial, feeling Wheeljack’s spike tense against his palm. The Wrecker was still firmly gripping Cliffjumper’s side, panted groans cueing Cliffjumper on as he worked his kisses and the tip of his glossa along Wheeljack’s finial. Wheeljack made a sharp gasp as a smattering of transfluid escaped his spike, the gasp turning into a short laugh.

“Jackie,” Cliffjumper hummed, nipping lightly at the finial. “Didn’t know you had a sweet spot. Much less two.”

“Yeah,” Wheeljack panted, resisting the urge to bury his face against Cliffjumper’s shoulder. “Don’t tell-many ‘bots about-it.”

“I keep working on these sweet spots, you promise to frag me good and hard?”

“Was plannin’ on it from the start,” Wheeljack replied with a smirk. “But...if you insist on the sweet spots, I sure as slag won’t argue.”

“I do insist,” Cliffjumper replied, nipping lightly at the base of the finial. Wheeljack writhed reflexively against him, another small pulse of transfluid hitting Cliffjumper’s palm.

“Yeah, okay,” Wheeljack groaned, grinning and moving so that he could catch Cliffjumper’s lips with his. “Get your aft to the cockpit so I can frag the slag outta’ you.”

Cliffjumper grinned into the kiss, and he didn’t resist as Wheeljack guided him down the hallway to the cockpit. The moment he could, Wheeljack sat down in the pilot’s seat, pulling Cliffjumper down with him. Again, Cliffjumper didn’t resist, and he carefully straddled the Wrecker, feeling Wheeljack’s transfluid-slick spike rub against his inner thigh.

“Not quite done with you yet, Wrecker,” Cliffjumper hummed, kissing at Wheeljack’s chassis and working his kisses down Wheeljack’s body.

“Aren’t you just the accommodating one?” Wheeljack chuckled, watching as Cliffjumper moved down closer to his spike. He let a hand rest on Cliffjumper’s helm, feeling his circuits flare as Cliffjumper’s glossa licked over the tip of his spike.

Grinning when Wheeljack groaned, Cliffjumper teasingly sucked at the tip of Wheeljack’s spike, tasting transfluid against his glossa. Wheeljack muttered something unintelligible as he lifted his hips, guiding his spike further into Cliffjumper’s mouth. Pressing his glossa against the shaft, Cliffjumper set one hand on Wheeljack’s abs, his fingertips tracing the outlines, while the other brushed against Wheeljack’s already warm valve cap.

Making an inquiring noise, Cliffjumper looked up at Wheeljack, keeping his mouth on the Wrecker’s spike. Managing a panting chuckle, Wheeljack stroked Cliffjumper’s helm, opening his valve cap. As he felt Cliffjumper’s fingertips tease at the lubricant-slick rim, Wheeljack grinned and tilted his head back against the pilot’s seat, a guttural groan reverberating from his vocal processor. Cliffjumper’s mouth slid off his spike, and Wheeljack was about to glance down until he felt Cliffjumper’s glossa flick across his valve entrance.

A sharp grunt pushing past his gritted dentae, Wheeljack reflexively clutched at the side of Cliffjumper’s helm. Chuckling lowly, Cliffjumper slid his glossa into the slick valve, grasping at Wheeljack’s thighs as his thumbs rubbed in a slow, circular motion against the Wrecker’s inner thighs.

“Slag it all, Cliff…!”

Grinning as he gasped hoarsely, Wheeljack grasped his spike with his free hand. His overload was practically hammering at his circuits, transfluid leaking from the tip of his spike, and Wheeljack began stroking his hand up and down the shaft with a quickening pace. Cliffjumper’s glossa continued to tease and tantalize at his valve, slippery lubricant ekeing from the rim. When the tip of the red ‘bot’s glossa pressed and dragged across a particularly sensitive set of sensors, Wheeljack felt his overload coil sharply and his back arched. He stroked at his shaft with a quickening pace, feeling the promise of an overload hammering wildly at his senses.

Humming with a grin, Cliffjumper began to gratify Wheeljack’s valve with fervent insistency. He could feel Wheeljack tensing rhythmically around his glossa, and Wheeljack’s grunted pants were growing closer and closer together. Though the Wrecker was doing his best to stay still, his body still writhed in the pilot’s seat.

“Cliff!” Wheeljack gasped, leaning back into the pilot’s seat, “Gah! Cliff!”

A rumbling, muted cry slipping past tightly gritted dentae, Wheeljack arched his back sharply as his overload snapped free. Clutching firmly at Wheeljack’s thighs, Cliffjumper slid his glossa as far as he could into Wheeljack’s valve, tasting the flash of  heat and sudden rush of lubricant. His hands massaged at Wheeljack’s inner thighs quickly, Cliffjumper humming contentedly as he listened to and tasted the Wrecker’s overload.

Ecstasy running rampant through his senses, Wheeljack managed to gasp out Cliffjumper’s name, his free hand shakily stroking the other ‘bot’s helm. His heels scraping hard against the floor of the cockpit, Wheeljack drew out his overload with quickened strokes against his spike, pulsations of transfluid spattering onto his abs and chest.

Slowly, in decreasing waves, Wheeljack’s overload subsided, and he relaxed against the pilot’s chair, panting and grinning contentedly. Rising up slightly, lapping up some of the transfluid from Wheeljack’s spike and abs, Cliffjumper smirked and tilted his head to the side.

“Don’t think I’ve heard a Wrecker make those kinds of noises before,” Cliff chuckled.

Raising an eyebrow and lightly patting the side of Cliffjumper’s face, Wheeljack then beckoned the red ‘bot forward.

“C’mere and we’ll see what kinds of noises I can get you to make.”

His grin widening, Cliffjumper carefully clambered forward, Wheeljack gripping at his waist to steady him. Resting one hand on Wheeljack’s shoulder and using the other to grip the edge of the pilot’s seat, Cliffjumper leaned forward, kissing Wheeljack roughly. The Wrecker made a pleased hum, his glossa teasing at Cliffjumper’s lips as he grasped the side of Cliffjumper’s face with one hand, the other drifting down Cliffjumper’s back to the ‘bot’s aft. His fingers traced along Cliffjumper’s face before his index and middle digits slipped between his lips and Cliffjumper’s. Cliff gave him a mildly confused look, but Wheeljack lightly pressed his fingertips against Cliffjumper’s lower lip.

Catching on, Cliffjumper began to rhythmically suck on Wheeljack’s fingers, the Wrecker chuckling roughly in approval. His other hand was resting firmly on Cliffjumper’s aft, his fingertips tracing the rim of the red ‘bot’s valve entrance. Grinning as he felt Cliffjumper’s glossa press against his fingers, Wheeljack tilted his head to the side.

“Get that spike cap and valve open, Cliff,” he ordered with a smirk.

A short, excited noise escaping Cliffjumper’s occupied mouth, he obliged. At the feeling of the heat and lubricant, Wheeljack slowly slid two fingertips around the valve entrance, drawing out a small smattering of lubricant. Cliffjumper sucked at his fingers more fervently, an imploring moan humming from his vocal processor. Humming almost nonchalantly, but his knowing smirk indicating anything but that, Wheeljack continued to slide his fingers in and out of Cliffjumper’s valve. Listening as Cliffjumper groaned lowly, Wheeljack glanced up, pale blue optics watching as the ‘bot squirmed against him.

Catching Wheeljack’s gaze, Cliffjumper grinned, letting his glossa loll against the tips of Wheeljack’s fingers. Smirking, Wheeljack let his fingers that weren’t being tantalized by Cliffjumper’s glossa trace along the ‘bot’s jawline.

“Trust me, I’m quite familiar with how good you are with that glossa.”

Cliffjumper made an imploring noise, writhing slightly as he tried to move so that his valve, which Wheeljack’s fingers were still still teasing at, bumped lightly against the Wrecker’s spike. Grinning, Wheeljack guided Cliffjumper a bit further so that he was right over his spike, the transfluid slick tip brushing against Cliffjumper’s valve entrance.

“Frag me, Jackie. Just frag me already,” Cliffjumper gasped, letting Wheeljack’s fingers slip from his mouth.

Bringing Cliffjumper down quickly and firmly, Wheeljack grinned at the sound of Cliffjumper’s excited cry, relishing the feel of wet, tight heat on his spike. Bracing himself in the seat, holding Cliffjumper down on his spike as the ‘bot writhed and panted excitedly, Wheeljack used the fingers that Cliffjumper’s glossa had left slick to tease at Cliffjumper’s spike.

“Ask and you’ll receive,” Wheeljack said with a grin. “C’mere.”

Another short, pant of a laugh escaped Cliffjumper’s lips and he leaned forward, Wheeljack catching his damp lips with his own, scarred ones. Whimpering and moaning into Wheeljack’s mouth, Cliffjumper gripped at Wheeljack’s shoulder, moving himself up and then back down on Wheeljack’s spike as best he could. Chuckling, Wheeljack kissed at the side of Cliffjumper’s neck, lifting his hips and pulling at Cliff’s hip.

Leaning forward with the motion, Cliffjumper figured out what Wheeljack was doing as the Wrecker began to rock him back and forth at a steady pace on his spike. His hand falling from the edge of the pilot’s seat so that both were clutching at Wheeljack’s shoulders, Cliffjumper sat up a bit straighter, keeping the pace that Wheeljack had set. Short, excited pants slipped past his lips, and Cliffjumper shuddered suddenly, his fingertips digging into Wheeljack’s shoulders.

The Wrecker only grinned in response, shifting slightly so that he could better support Cliff, maneuvering his hips so that his spike pressed deep into Cliffjumper each time the red ‘bot rocked back down. And Cliffjumper didn’t need any coaxing, as he was starting to quicken the pace, his circuits beginning to thrum in anticipation as he felt his overload coil tighter in him. Wheeljack’s spike hit a particularly sensitive sensor, and Cliffjumper bucked slightly, his valve tightening momentarily. Grunting shortly, Wheeljack smirked at Cliffjumper, suddenly pulling the other ‘bot back down for a firm kiss.

“Slag it all,” Cliffjumper gasped. “Looks like-looks like I’m not the only one-that can find sweet spots!”

“Well, then...let’s see if I can’t find a couple more,” Wheeljack replied, his thumb slipping across the tip of Cliffjumper’s spike, drawing out droplets of transfluid.

“Jackie…,” Cliffjumper groaned through his dentae, clutching harder at Wheeljack’s shoulders.

“Hmn? I’m listening.” Wheeljack quickened the pace that his hand was stroking at Cliffjumper’s spike, feeling Cliffjumper go taut around him once again.

“I-”

The door to the maintenance bay suddenly rattled open, and Cliffjumper stopped in mid-sentence. Glancing over at the cockpit door, Wheeljack studied the doorframe for a few split seconds. Sure, they could stop.

Or…

“Let’s see just how good I can make this,” Wheeljack said with a grin.

“Wheeljack?”

The look of surprise on Cliffjumper’s face was priceless, and Wheeljack chuckled as he flicked a switch on the nearby control panel. The door to the cockpit slid shut, a small beep affirming it was locked. Turning his attention to the still surprised Cliffjumper, Wheeljack bucked his hips slightly. The unexpected movement, not to mention that once again Wheeljack’s spike struck a particularly good “sweet spot”, eclitied a cry from Cliffjumper.

“Shh, shh. Not so loud, sunshine,” Wheeljack laughed quietly, his hand resuming its indulgent pace on Cliffjumper’s spike. “Not unless you were wanting an audience.”

Somewhere between flushed and frustrated, Cliffjumper studied the Wrecker for a few moments...and then grinned. He leaned forward, kissing Wheeljack roughly.

“Nah,” he panted. “You’re all mine, Wrecker.”

With that, Cliffjumper began to ride up and down on Wheeljack’s spike with an insistent pace, a pleased groan rumbling from Wheeljack. As his overload coiled tighter in him, his circuits flaring, Cliffjumper suddenly kissed at Wheeljack’s right finial, clutching at the back of the Wrecker’s shoulders so as to hold him there.

Wheeljack made a sharp, surprised moan, gritting his dentae as he fought to keep quiet himself.

“You slagging…,” he chuckled breathlessly. A pulse of transfluid left him as another overload began to coil inside him, and Wheeljack made another, muffled groan as his circuits flared in excitement as Cliffjumper’s glossa teased at the edge of the finial.

“You don’t want-an audience-now do you?” Cliffjumper teased in-between pants.

His rough chuckle mingling with his pleased moan, Wheeljack nipped at the side of Cliffjumper’s neck, clutching firmly at the other ‘bot’s back.

“Nope. But you might want to hold on.”

There was only a brief moment of hesitation and Cliffjumper held on tightly to Wheeljack’s shoulders. Making a grunt of effort, Wheeljack managed to push himself and Cliff up out of the chair, grabbing Cliffjumper’s legs just enough to keep himself in the ‘bot. He pinned Cliffjumper against the control panel, thrusting roughly into the ‘bot. Keeping his legs loosely wrapped around Wheeljack, Cliffjumper made a series of gasped pants. Reflex and the fast growing sense of tensity in him as his overload drew nearer kept him clutching at Wheeljack’s back.

To his credit, the Wrecker kept his fervent, insistent thrusts, grinning as he felt Cliffjumper grow hotter and tighter around him. Cliffjumper’s fingertips dragged down his back, and Wheeljack kissed the side of Cliffjumper’s neck quickly. Taking advantage of the moment, Cliffjumper again kissed at Wheeljack’s finial. The Wrecker made a sharp grunt and buried his face against Cliffjumper’s shoulder as the ‘bot continued to kiss shakily at the finial. It was all he could do to keep focused on his thrusts, each teasing flick at his finial making his overload coil tighter.

Trying to muffle his pants, Wheeljack clutched sharply at Cliffjumper’s thighs, holding the ‘bot steady as he felt the first flashes of tensing, wet heat around his spike.

“Jackie! Jackie!” Cliffjumper panted, his voice tight. “I-”

“That’s it,” Wheeljack purred gutturally, his voice shaking. “That’s it!”

Catching Cliffjumper’s lips roughly with his, Wheeljack managed to muffle the other ‘bot’s muted cry of satisfaction. Cliffjumper arched his back sharply, all senses going into a wild rush as his overload overtook him. He bucked against Wheeljack as the Wrecker continued to thrust into him, transfluid pulsing from his spike as he fought to keep his lips locked with Wheeljack’s. His heels scraped against Wheeljack’s legs, desire wanting Wheeljack to stay buried in him for each moment of his overload. But each thrust from the Wrecker seemed to draw Cliffjumper’s overload out further, and soon Cliffjumper had lost all sense of focus. Fighting every urge to cry out again, Cliffjumper lifted his hips in reflex, each sensor in overdrive at this point.

When Cliffjumper lifted his hips, it allowed Wheeljack to press deep, and that, coupled with the waves of hot, carnal tensity around his spike, caused his overload to snap free. Deepening their kiss, Wheeljack managed a couple more quick, deep thrusts as his entire body shuddered in the grip of his overload. Grunting in between waves of his overload, Wheeljack kissed at Cliffjumper fervently as Cliff clawed at his back, his valve still taut around Wheeljack’s spike.

Tilting his head back as the last throes of his overload shivered from his body, Cliffjumper stroked slowly at Wheeljack’s back. The Wrecker was still clutching firmly at Cliffjumper’s legs, but he had relaxed noticeably, panting and resting his head against Cliffjumper’s shoulder. Working to get his senses back in order, Cliffjumper glanced around the cockpit quickly. They’d made quite the mess, and Cliffjumper lifted his head a little, trying to listen for whoever else was in the maintenance bay. When he heard nobody, Cliffjumper turned his attention back to Wheeljack, who was grinning tiredly at him.

“I think...we made a bit of a mess, Jackie,” Cliffjumper chuckled.

“Eh, it’ll get cleaned up later,” Wheeljack replied.

Breathing out slowly, Wheeljack withdrew from Cliffjumper, leaning against the control panel. He looked around at the dark glass windshield of the ship and laughed.

“Thank Primus for tinted windows.”

Sitting up and looking around, Cliffjumper began laughing, the contented exhaustion washing over him too great to resist. Grinning in reply, exhaustion settling on his features, Wheeljack stepped back weakly and collapsed back into the pilot’s seat. He beckoned for Cliffjumper to come over, who obliged with a tired grin. He sat down on Wheeljack’s lap, the Wrecker shifting slightly to give Cliff a bit more room.

“How’re you feeling, Cliff?”

“You made good on that promise, Jackie,” Cliffjumper chuckled, lightly patting Wheeljack’s chassis.


End file.
